


Cleanliness

by BazinMousqueton



Series: The Body and the Battle [8]
Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: (And Love It), Aramis and Porthos have highly inappropriate fantasies about their comrade, Blow Jobs, Dirty Talk, Episode Related, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, Imaginary spitroasting, M/M, Murderkitty!Aramis, Mutual Masturbation, Oral Sex, Outdoor Sex, Pining, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sexual Fantasy, Skinny Dipping, Spoilers through to 1x07, Water Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-25
Updated: 2016-09-25
Packaged: 2018-08-17 05:53:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8132831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BazinMousqueton/pseuds/BazinMousqueton
Summary: In which Athos isn't there, Aramis suggests a swim, and Porthos and Aramis share their fantasies about Athos. Plus, there's a very wet blow job.Or: Aramis and Porthos are playful (and, incidentally, naked and wet), Aramis has the best blow-job ideas, and Aramis and Porthos get very explicit about what they'd like to do to Athos.The fics in this series are chronological but standalone -- there's no need to read the earlier ones to enjoy this.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Set after 1x07 (A Rebellious Woman).

Aramis cantered out of the gates and kicked his charger into a gallop. His hair streamed in the wind. Fresh air filled his lungs. He couldn't get away fast enough from the charred bundles of sticks in the courtyard and the stench of corruption surrounding the Cardinal. He never wanted to see the Monastery of the Holy Cross again.

He was halfway across the bridge before he realised Porthos hadn't kept up.

He pulled on the reins and dragged his horse to a standstill. Porthos trotted to his side, leaving a noticeable gap between them. A gap Athos should have filled.

"Jesus wept," Porthos said. Aramis crossed himself, but didn't comment. They'd had a bad day. Porthos shook his head. "Athos didn't even look at me before he left with the Comtesse de Larroque."

"He needed to know she was safe. He'll come back to us afterwards."

Porthos sighed and took off his hat. "Yeah, but in what state?" He turned the hat over, staring down at it. "The Cardinal soils everything he touches."

"Going after the Comtesse for her fortune was Machiavellian, even for him," Aramis said. 

"Mackia-what-ian?"

"Machiavellian. It's from a book. One banned by the Church."

"Like murder," Porthos said, a grim look on his face. 

Aramis wasn't ready to have that conversation. He loved the Church; knew Pope Urban to be infallible; and abhorred Father Sestini's attempt to poison the Cardinal. Using a sacred relic, no less. Aramis crossed himself again. Could the envoy really have been acting on the Pope's orders? 

Aramis killed. Was good at killing. Took satisfaction in it. Maybe, if he was honest with himself, took pleasure: pleasure at a job well done, at winning the victory, at feeling alive. At taking risks and killing cleanly.

Poison and burning were the weapons of cowards. Murderers. Murderers and churchmen.

Aramis shook himself. He felt dirty. Porthos was right about the Cardinal: he polluted everything. 

"I can't face Paris just yet," Porthos said. "I can't go to court and watch everyone playing filthy fucking _politics_." He spat the last word out as if it were the profanity. Aramis knew how he felt. He looked at the lake below them. 

He smiled when the idea hit him.

"Let's go for a swim."

Porthos grinned, flicked his genet's reins, and led the way off the bridge down to the lakeside. They left the horses in a grassy clearing and raced each other, laughing, to the water. Aramis got there first, splashing into the shallows in his boots. Porthos followed him in, picked him up, and slung him across his shoulder, with the clear intention of throwing him fully-clothed into the lake.

Aramis, his heart racing as it always did when Porthos manhandled him -- _God, Porthos's strength!_ \-- fought, beating his fists against Porthos's back.

"Don't you dare! My gunpowder. My pistols!"

Porthos relented. He carried Aramis back to the water's edge, set him on his feet, and bent down to kiss him. Aramis leaned into the kiss, pressing his full length hard against Porthos. He twined his arms around Porthos's neck and deepened the kiss, moaning as Porthos's tongue pushed into his mouth.

They broke apart, both breathing heavily. Aramis, lightheaded, considered dropping to his knees, unbuttoning Porthos's breeches, and taking Porthos's cock in his mouth. He could almost feel its weight on his tongue. Pressing into his throat...

Porthos grinned. "You've got that look in your eye," he said.

"What look?" Aramis asked.

"The look that says you're planning something."

Aramis brushed the front of Porthos's breeches with the back of his hand, then stepped back. "Swim first," he said, impressed at his own self-restraint. He turned to the lake, searching for a landmark, and pointed. "First to that jetty gets to make the plans."

They stripped fast, watching each other. The afternoon was balmy. Aramis took his shirt off and stretched, luxuriating in the warm breeze playing over his skin and in the heat of Porthos's eyes.

"Bet it's freezing in the water," Aramis said, tugging his breeches over his feet.

"Bet I'll make it to the jetty first," Porthos said, pulling off his linens and running towards the lake. "You'll be sucking my cock all afternoon."

Aramis's knees went weak, extending Porthos's head start. Porthos looked back over his shoulder, grinning, knowing exactly the effect his words had had. Aramis sprinted after him, caught up as the water reached thigh-height, and launched himself into a tackle. He caught Porthos around the waist and they both plunged, yelling, into the water. Aramis had been right: it was freezing. Aramis's skin tensed, his nipples tightened, and his cock shrivelled. He came up for air, shaking sopping hair out of his eyes, and flung himself in the direction of the jetty. Porthos caught his legs and lifted. Aramis thrashed, his head underwater, until a lucky kick let him break free.

They splashed and play-fought across the lake, disturbing fish, waterfowl, and the valley's tranquillity. Aramis twisted out of Porthos's grasp as they got close to the jetty. He swept his arm across the surface of the water, raising a wave to drench Porthos. Porthos closed his eyes reflexively, giving Aramis the chance to cut smoothly through the water and score the first touch on the jetty. He hooked his arm across the sun-warmed timbers and caught his breath, smiling at the victory, his cares washed away.

"A clear win," he said.

"Pretty sure you cheated," Porthos said, treading water. The jetty was barely above water level; water sloshed over Aramis's arm as Porthos made waves.

"I'm not the one who resorted to hair-pulling," Aramis said.

"I was retaliating. Beard-pulling is definitely not honourable."

Aramis curled his hand around Porthos's chin, stroking his beard against the grain. He shivered as Porthos's bristles scratched his palm. 

"Who cares about honour?" Aramis said. "I want my prize."

Porthos heaved himself onto the jetty and sprawled on his side, gazing down at Aramis. "What's it to be?"

Aramis half-lowered his eyelids and looked up through his lashes. He paused before speaking, letting the anticipation build. He licked his lips. He made sure he had Porthos's entire attention.

"I'm going to suck your cock all afternoon," Aramis said.

Porthos let out an explosive huff of breath and collapsed onto his back. Aramis laughed. 

"I'm not coming up there," he said. "Sit on the side of the jetty."

Porthos sat up with indecent haste and scrambled to follow Aramis's instructions. 

"Legs in the water," Aramis said. "Knees apart." 

Aramis slipped between Porthos's legs, braced his forearms on Porthos's thighs, and lifted his shoulders out of the water. Porthos's cock, already half-hard despite the water's chill, filled his vision. Aramis squirmed closer and licked a line from root to tip. Porthos sighed. Aramis circled his tongue, dipped his head to close his lips around Porthos's cockhead, and sucked. Porthos's cock grew and hardened.

"What about the monks?" Porthos asked, his voice tight. Aramis looked up at the monastery, perched way above them. It was conceivable a monk might see something, if he happened to be looking in the right direction. With a spyglass.

"Let them watch," Aramis said. "Remember what the Cardinal said? It's a closed order." 

He tightened his lips on Porthos again. 

"Ahh... yeah?" Porthos said, sounding befuddled. He gasped and shifted as Aramis's tongue stroked him. "Uh... no gossip. I remember."

Aramis decided to make sure that was the last thing his friend remembered for a while. He relaxed his throat and his arms, letting himself drop down onto Porthos's cock. Porthos, now fully hard, moaned. Aramis swallowed. He bobbed in the water and allowed the lake's gentle up-and-down movement to do all the work. His own cock twitched every time a ripple lifted and released him, pushing Porthos's cock deeper. 

Aramis closed his eyes, the better to savour the sensations. The tension flowed out of his body. The sun's warmth caressed his shoulders and hair. The coolness of the water lapped at his arms and teased his nipples. Porthos tasted of the lake -- sweet and clear. His cock filled Aramis's mouth; Aramis's throat smarted, just a little, deliciously. Porthos's hands curved, loosely, around Aramis's head; stopping him from drifting.

Aramis lost himself in the water's plash and its steady, slow rhythm. His tongue traced lazy curves along Porthos's length. He sucked and released in time with the water's leisurely pace. Porthos's breathing became heavy, eased into quiet gasps, then drowsy moans.

Aramis floated. 

Porthos's hands tightened on Aramis's head, fingers lacing through his hair and tugging. Aramis's eyes flew open. He came back to himself enough to nod to Porthos. Porthos, fully kindled and urgent, pushed hard into Aramis's mouth. Aramis sucked happily. Porthos thrust once, twice, three times, and came, calling Aramis's name and relaxing his grip. Aramis hummed and wrapped his arms around Porthos's thighs. He held Porthos's cock in his mouth until his friend moved. 

Porthos shifted backwards into a sprawl, supporting himself on bended arms. He wore a huge, satisfied grin. Aramis pushed himself away from the jetty and drifted on his back, equally satisfied with his performance. 

"I'm going to let you win all the contests," Porthos said, his voice deep and drowsy.

" _Let_ me? As if you could do anything to stop me."

"Come up here and I'll show you what I can do."

Aramis flipped onto his front and swum to the jetty. Porthos gripped Aramis's waist, fingers nearly touching at the small of Aramis's back, and pulled him up. Aramis squirmed into Porthos's lap, loving the feeling of Porthos holding him.

"Athos's waist," Aramis said, knowing Porthos would understand.

"Mmm," Porthos said, tightening his grip. "So slender. I bet I could circle it with my hands."

Aramis shivered. "No bet."

Porthos eyed Aramis's cock speculatively. "I'd have to get him out of his uniform first, of course."

"Of course."

"I might leave him his scarf. Or just use it to gag him." Aramis's cock twitched. Porthos grinned. "Or I could gag him another way."

"God, yes," Aramis breathed. "That mouth."

"Yeah, that mouth."

Porthos's cock, despite its recent exercise, thickened. They smiled at each other, heated, and moved to sit back to back. Aramis leant against Porthos, letting his head fall onto Porthos's shoulder. He dipped his left hand in the lake and curled it around his own cock, knowing Porthos was doing the same. 

"Can you imagine him naked and on his knees?" Aramis said.

Porthos groaned. "All too well. Can you imagine those lips on your cock?"

"His tongue lapping."

"Circling."

Aramis tightened his grip on his shaft and began an unhurried stroke. "Pressing," he said. 

"We can't both fuck his mouth at once," Porthos said. 

Aramis gasped, the image nearly enough to make him come. Warmth flooded through him. He released his cock and breathed steadily to calm himself. Porthos chuckled.

"Well, maybe we could," Porthos said. "But not his first time."

"He should be between us," Aramis said, cupping his balls in his right hand.

"He should always be between us," Porthos said. 

Aramis moved his left hand back onto his shaft and touched his thumb to his tip. "If you fucked his arse while I fucked his mouth you'd be able to hold onto his waist. I'd like to see your hands on him."

"Every time I thrust into him I'd push him onto your cock."

Aramis felt Porthos quiver. "He'd look up at me with those big blue eyes--"

"Green eyes."

"--blue-green eyes. Begging for more."

"I'd give it to him," Porthos said, his breath hitching. "I'd fuck him so hard."

"Do you think he'd come like that?" Aramis asked. "Or would we need to touch him?"

Porthos growled. Aramis stroked himself harder, accelerating. His pulse raced. He squeezed his balls and pulled down. He felt his come travelling through his body and whimpered as he came. Behind him, Porthos gasped Athos's name as he reached his own release. 

They turned and collapsed into each other's arms, spent.

# # #

Back in Paris, Athos wasn't at the garrison. Aramis and Porthos stabled their horses and set out for Le Tambour Royal. The busy tavern stunk after the fresh air of the lake. Aramis sighed as they entered.

"Over there," Porthos said, nudging him. Athos, on his own, looked to be making a serious effort at drinking himself into a stupor. Two empty wine bottles stood on his table. He poured himself a glass from a third bottle, not looking up.

He hadn't been this desperate in weeks.

"This isn't just the Comtesse de Larroque," Porthos said. 

Aramis nodded. "Did you see his face when he realised she'd lied to him about the girl? It was as if she'd stabbed him. He hadn't known her long enough to care that deeply."

"That other woman," Porthos said. "At the trial. Madame de la Chapelle. Athos said she was a liar; that her life was a lie."

"Who is she to Athos?"

Porthos shrugged. They moved to Athos's table and sat down on either side of him. He didn't greet them, but Aramis saw some of the strain leave his shoulders. He was where he belonged, between his friends. Where they'd always try to keep him.


End file.
